A Holiday by Gaslight(10)

“Perhaps candor would be a better word,” she said hastily.

He glowered at her. “Go on.”

“When we met in the park last Monday, I told you we had nothing at all in common. Do you remember?”

“I’m not likely to forget.”

“Yes, well, my point is that, upon reflection, I realized I’ve no way of ascertaining the truth of that statement. Not when we’ve never even talked to each other.”

“We’ve never talked to each other?” He made no effort to conceal his impatience. “And how, pray, have we been communicating these past two months if not by talking? Through smoke signals?”

“We haven’t talked. Not in any meaningful way. Indeed, I scarcely know a thing about you. Least of all why a gentleman of your disposition should ever wish to court a girl like me.”

A gentleman of his disposition.

Was that a carefully coded way of saying that he was crass? Vulgar? Unable to appreciate fine things? He stifled the urge to tell her that even a common working man could recognize quality when he saw it.

“There’s no great mystery to it,” he said. “You’re a beautiful creature.”

Miss Appersett’s lips compressed into a thin line. She didn’t look pleased by the compliment. Rather the opposite. She gathered her things from the chair by his desk. “My sister is the acknowledged beauty of the family. Far more beautiful than I.”

Ned refrained from stating the obvious. There was no comparison. How could there be? Miss Emily was a chit of barely nineteen. A vacuous, overdelicate girl—rather like a hollow porcelain ornament one might place on a mantelshelf.

Miss Appersett had a delicacy to her countenance as well, but there was nothing anemic about her beauty. There was a depth to her. A certain sensible pragmatism which—on occasion—had given way to a merry laugh or a smile of genuine warmth. He’d never been on the receiving end of such smiles, but until their ill-fated meeting in Hyde Park, he’d had every reason to hope.

No, Sophia Appersett was no porcelain figure to be placed on a shelf. He’d recognized it from the first moment he saw her. If hardship came, she wouldn’t shatter into a million useless pieces. To the lucky gentleman who won her, she’d be a friend. A partner.

“Your sister has many admirable qualities, I’m sure,” he said.

“She’s the belle of Derbyshire.” Miss Appersett tugged on her worn leather gloves. “A beauty of some repute.”

“Is she indeed.”

“If that was your only requirement, you would have done better to court her.”

He gave a derisive snort. “I doubt she’d have had me.”

Miss Appersett’s eyes flew to his, a hint of accusation in her gaze. And something else, too. Some flash of emotion he couldn’t interpret.

His heart gave a queer double-thump. “Besides, beauty wasn’t my only requirement.”

“No? What other reason could you have had for approaching my father?”

He shrugged. “I suppose I thought I could make you happy. Apparently, I was wrong.”

A shadow of vulnerability passed over Miss Appersett’s face. For the barest moment, she looked far younger than the self-possessed lady he’d lately squired about town. “If I hadn’t ended our courtship, would you have done?” she asked.

A damnably awkward question. Especially when he’d already agreed that they didn’t suit. He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Perhaps. Eventually. I don’t know.”

“You can’t have been very comfortable.”

“Is courtship meant to be comfortable in your world?”

Any response Miss Appersett might have given was arrested by a firm rap on the office door. It shook the doorframe and rattled the glass, causing them to jump away from each other as if they’d been caught in the midst of committing a crime.

Walter Murray popped his ginger head into the room. “Forgive the interruption. The carriage has arrived. Shall I have the driver wait?”

Ned silently cursed his friend’s bad timing. “We’ll be right down.”

Walter withdrew, leaving the door open behind him. A not-so-subtle hint that Ned must observe the proprieties. As if he needed reminding. Miss Appersett’s visit already verged on the scandalous. It was going to be a pretty trick to bundle her into the hansom and send her back to Green Street without arousing any more attention.

She seemed to read his mind. “It was unwise of me to come here.”

“Yes. And, if I may add, very unlike you, Miss Appersett.”

Her expression cooled. “And may I add, Mr. Sharpe, that you don’t know me at all.”

He inclined his head in silent acknowledgment. An excruciatingly civil gesture that was precariously close to mockery. “Indeed, ma’am.” He held the door open for her, wide enough to accommodate her skirts.

But Miss Appersett made no move to exit. She merely stood there, her hands clutched in front of her and her bosom rising and falling on an agitated breath. Twin spots of color rose high in her cheeks. She looked rather magnificent. “In answer to your question,” she said, “I don’t know if courtship is comfortable in my world or anywhere. The truth is, you’re the first gentleman who’s ever asked leave to court me.”

Ned’s hand fell from the door. He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d hauled off and slapped him across the face.